


Corner of the World 37: Simmer

by serafina20



Series: Corner of the World [40]
Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serafina20/pseuds/serafina20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark thinks about his situation with Lex and isn't happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Corner of the World 37: Simmer

Another Saturday night. Somewhere, Clark had once heard the rumor that Saturday nights were supposed to be enjoyable. It was the night reserved exclusively for fun, even more so than Friday. There were complications with Fridays. Yes, Friday was the end of the work week and everyone got excited and wanted to go out and do something fun, but things happened. You had to work overtime, or zealous newspaper editors roped you into staying late after school, or something. So, while Friday night might be a big party night in some ways, Saturday was the real deal.

Somewhere in the far recesses of his mind, Clark remembered a time he'd actually enjoyed Saturday nights. After the first few weeks of being allowed to spend one night during the weekend with Lex, Clark had tried to work it to his advantage. He'd figured out that if he spent time with Chloe and Pete on Friday night, he could usually "bump into" Lex Saturday afternoon, spend the rest of the day with him, and then get to spend the night. Then, Lex generally came over for dinner on Sundays, so they basically got to spend the whole weekend together.

It had been great. Clark had worked it out so that Friday was for friends, and Saturday was for his lover.

Not anymore. Not for him at least. His friends got to spend time with their girlfriends. Chloe was in Metropolis with Sydney. Plus, she was spending the night at Sydney's place, which meant she was totally getting laid. It was not fair.

And then Pete. Pete was on a date with his new conquest, Jill. He'd been pursuing her for about a week, and now they were at the movies, followed by late night drinks at the Talon. He wasn't getting laid, but he was probably going to see more action than Clark.

And Lana ... well, Lana didn't have a date. And she definitely wasn't getting laid. But she was Lana, and Lana probably wasn't going to have sex again until she was married, so that didn't make Clark feel a whole heck of a lot better.

It wasn't fair. Clark had had a real Saturday night life way before Chloe and Pete. He'd been in love, been having great sex, and had been happy. So how come he was in the storm cellar now, lying on his sleeping bag next to his ship, cock in hand, all alone?

Clark moaned softly as he shifted his hips on the silky nylon fabric of his sleeping bag. He wasn't going to last long, and he wasn't even halfway through his fantasy yet. In his mind, he and Lex were in the middle of a huge bed, covers and pillows thrown everywhere. They were sweaty and hot and grunting and thrusting against each other. There were bite marks all over Lex, and his lips were bruised and swollen.

He moved his hand faster. His cock was leaking pre-come over his hand, which was already slick with massage oil. When he cracked open his eyes, he could see the head sliding in and out of his fist. A shiver running through him at the sight, Clark thrust his hips harder, cock rubbing against his skin in a delicious way that made him hot and cold at the same time. He moved his finger slightly so he'd catch the foreskin as he came up. Pausing his pumping, Clark rubbed the sensitive skin between his fingers; his body convulsed and he groaned. The muscles in his back clenched as he twisted on the sleeping bag. It felt so good; he'd forgotten how sensitive his foreskin was, how crazy he could get from just playing with it.

In his mind, Lex leaned forward and took Clark's cock between his lips. His tongue ran around the head, probing the sensitive skin, teasing it. He was sucking hard, and loud, slurping sounds filled the air. Hot, electric thrills danced over Clark's skin as he squeezed his eyes shut hard, envisioning Lex, forming him perfectly in his mind.

Lex was naked. His collar was on. Sweat was glistening on his skin, making him look almost ... dewy. Not sweaty and masculine, but soft and sleek and beautiful. He was flushed from his exertions, nipples erect, bite marks covering his torso. There was a deep red mark on his ear. And he had both hands around Clark's cock as he massaged and licked and sucked for all he was worth.

"That's right, baby," Clark gritted out between his teeth. "Make me feel good. Suck me." He moved his hand faster.

Lex bit his foreskin hard, just like Clark wished he always would. Then he lifted his head, eyes glazed with lust and said, "Please, Clark. Fuck me. I need your cock in me. I need you to fuck me hard. Pound into me. Make me scream, make me cry, make me come harder than I ever have, just take me."

Clark's cock twitched at the idea of Lex talking to him like that. He'd always been turned on by the idea of dirty talk, something that he'd never told Lex. Sometimes Lex would say things to him, but nothing too graphic. And graphic was what Clark wanted.

"I need your big, fat prick in me, fucking me hard. I want to feel you tomorrow when I sit down."

Hand moving still faster, Clark imagined himself shaking his head. "No."

"But Clark," Lex protested.

Clark knocked Lex onto his back and pinned his wrists over his head. He knelt over Lex's face, his cock brushing against Lex's mouth. Lex struggled, fighting Clark, trying to get free. Clark could tell Lex wanted to be in control of what was going on, but Clark wasn't going to let him.

"You're going to suck me, Lex," he said harshly, cock at Lex's mouth. "Open."

Lex shook his head and tried to throw Clark off, but Clark just pressed harder until he breached Lex's lips. Slowly, Lex opened his mouth, giving way under the pressure and Clark slid inside. The warm wetness engulfed his cock, making his muscles clench tightly.

Grunting faintly, Lex swallowed around his cock. His eyes were burning as he glared at Clark defiantly.

"Suck," Clark demanded.

When Lex didn't do anything, Clark thrust into Lex until Lex gagged around him, eyes going wide.

He started sucking. He was whimpering and keening and straining against Clark as his mouth was fucked. Clark moved as hard as he dared without hurting Lex. Every thrust hit Lex's gag reflex, and soon Lex was groaning and gagging constantly. But his own hard cock was smearing pre-come against Clark's leg, so Clark knew it was okay. But Clark almost didn't care because he was in control here and he wasn't going to fucking let Lex push him around anymore. And Lex was squirming and crying and sucking hard ... hard ... oh ...

"Yesssss," Clark hissed as he came. His body bucked hard as his come flowed over his hand, coating it.

Panting, he rolled onto his stomach and thrust his softening cock into the sleeping bag. He was shuddering hard as he did, toes curled, moaning softly with each thrust. "Lex," he whimpered. "Oh, God."

When he felt a little calmer, Clark rolled over again. He would never actually do that to Lex, he knew as he reached for some tissue Never hurt him. Never make him cry. But, for some reason, he got really turned on by the idea of forcing Lex to do something he didn't really want to. Of being in total control over Lex.

Truth was, he was a little ashamed at some of his fantasies. Like that last one; did he really have to fuck Lex until there were tears coming from his eyes? Now, it disgusted him that he could ever think of something like that, but that sort of thing happened a lot. His mind taking over and coming up with thoughts like that.

Clark sighed, tossed the tissues aside, and lay back on the sleeping bag. He couldn't worry about it now. Or, rather, he wouldn't worry about it now. No matter how many times he swore he'd only have safe, nice fantasies, they took over and he ended up feeling guilty. It was almost part of the ritual that he'd been doing for the past few weeks. He'd come down to the cellar, set up his stuff, masturbate for a while, feel really guilty, then set about trying to "become comfortable with who he was."

God, he hated that phrase. Hated it. Every time Lex said it, or something similar, Clark just wanted grab the words and somehow physically shove them down his throat. Because what the hell did they mean? He didn't know. Clark was comfortable in his body. He was finding enjoyment in his powers, like he had when they had first developed.

Back when he'd first gotten his speed, he'd loved running. He would rush through his chores for the sheer joy of moving that fast. It hadn't been until his father had told Clark he was an alien that Clark had begun having reservations about the gift. Then, after Lionel, all his powers had seem like a burden. Well, everything had, actually. But he hadn't enjoyed using his powers at all, except to help people, because it made him feel even more apart from everyone than he had before.

However, Lex had been right. Feeling alone was no reason not to enjoy the gifts he had. So he ran, and had fun running. He practiced using his X-ray and heat vision. He worked to keep his strength under control, and generally just ... lived.

Was that enough for Lex? Clark wasn't sure because he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be telling Lex about all this. He didn't know how to communicate his feelings and, truthfully, wasn't sure if he wanted to. Taking joy in something, or being comfortable with things wasn't something you could really articulate; Clark just wanted to feel, and he felt cheated and angry that he wasn't allowed to ^share^ the feeling with Lex.

Clark sighed and stretched, feeling his muscles tingle as blood rushed back into his limbs. He'd been over this a hundred times, ever since he'd started this. It wasn't helping him; the only thing he could do was try and convince Lex to drop his shields. Then maybe he could feel how Clark felt, and they could get back together. But every time Clark tried to find a way to ask Lex, Lex managed to get distracted or sidetracked.

Clark was terrified that Lex didn't want to reopen the bond. That he was happier as being a totally separate person and never wanted to be connected again.

No. He couldn't think like that. Lex loved him. Clark knew that. Lex was just being Lex. He thought he knew the best way to help, but he rushed into it without thinking of all the angles. And Lex wasn't good at listening to other people when he was convinced he was right. Clark just had to be patient and wait until Lex started really listening to him again. Then they would drop their shields, reconnect their minds, and be happy again.

Until then, Clark would do what he could to explore his own mind and feelings about himself.

He sat up and found his pajamas. Dressing quickly, he pulled his journal from under the ship and opened it.

The first thing he pulled out was Lex's last letter to him. He'd gotten it about two weeks ago, a few days after he'd gotten his ship back. Clark had written Lex, saying how relieved he was to have the ship back, and how he was sorry that Lex had been hurt when Clark had told Pete about being an alien. He'd also told Lex that he didn't think he was really interested in dating anyone, but going to a club sounded interesting.

Clark had written the letter and taken it to Lex's the same night. The next afternoon, when he'd gotten home from school, Lex's letter had been waiting for him on his desk. And Clark still didn't know what to say back.

He sighed softly and reread the letter.  
 _Dear Clark,_

 _Deep in the recesses of my mind and heart, I know that you weren't trying to hurt me. It's simply that I feel so lucky that you trusted me enough with your secret to let me in on it in the first place. A part of me can't help but feel the honor of being let into your confidence is somehow less if you tell others. Intellectually, I know how silly I am being; Pete has been your friend for years, and you two are close. It's natural that, as you become more comfortable with this, you would want to share your secret with people you trust._

 _Yes, I know that you didn't intend to tell Pete, but I think that, perhaps, it was always there in your subconscious. You let me get close enough to you to figure out that you were an alien because you loved me and you wanted me to know. Pete wasn't ever going to be that close, so you had to tell him. Maybe the excuse was that you didn't want to lose him as a friend, but you said yourself that it was a relief._

 _So, even though I was hurt, I am well aware it was not your intention to hurt me. This is one of those cases where you're going to have to let me feel what I feel even if it's stupid and irrational._

 _I don't know how long Dad is staying. I wish I could kick him out, but you know I can't._

 _I think you'd have a lot of fun with a club. If you like, I can have the limo take you, Pete, Chloe, and anyone else you want down to Metropolis some weekend. I do know of some under-18 or under-21 clubs that are supposed to be fun, and that your parents would approve of. Also, you can all spend the night at the penthouse. We'd have to work out the details with your parents, but I'd be happy to do what I can._

 _Thanks for your advice on what to do to help my situation. I've been trying to space out my workouts, and I do find that I'm a little calmer. It's hard with Dad around, because my muscles tense the moment I see him or think about seeing him, but I am trying._

 _I'm glad you finally see that this is something that you need to do. I understand how you could have been resentful towards me before, but I'm happy you're coming around. It's okay to be angry, at me or the situation or the world, but that anger shouldn't stop you from working out whatever issues you have. Please remember that, Clark. And also remember that I love you. Always._

 _Yours,  
Lex_

Clark bit his lip and set the letter down. Every time he read the end of the letter, he got so frustrated. He hated that Lex was constantly giving Clark permission to feel what he felt. Why didn't he ever get angry or hurt or resent Clark back?

"Because he has to be in control of everything," Clark answered himself out loud. "And he takes care of his issues about how I feel about him by giving me permission."

It was something Clark had realized some time ago. This whole thing, from the break-up to when they got to see each other during the week, was all about Lex controlling their relationship. Well, maybe not all about that; Lex did want Clark to be happy with being an alien. But it was partially about Lex being in control, only Clark didn't know why it was suddenly so important to him. Or if he even realized he was doing it.

He sighed and shook his head. He still had no reply to Lex's letter and he also wasn't very interested in sharing anything else with him. First off, there wasn't much that was new and second, he wasn't in the sharing mood anymore.

So, he picked up his pen and began writing in his journal.

"Dear Lex," he wrote, since once he'd gotten into the habit of writing letters, it just felt better journaling in letter form,

 _I took your advice today and tried to flirt with someone. There's this girl from school who works at the Talon on weekends. You know her: Theresa. The one who always waits on us on Sunday. Well, anyway, I was at the Talon this afternoon; she was there, so I started talking to her. I'm getting transferred into her math class next week, so I wanted to know how she likes the teacher. I ... well, I guess I was flirting. I was trying, a little. I asked how she's doing in school, and if she likes it. We started talking about my teachers, because she had a lot of the same ones last year (she's a junior), and then about a movie we'd both seen. Just stuff like that. I don't know if she knew I was trying to flirt, or if we were just talking, but she came back a few times and seemed happy to talk to me. I wasn't bothering her, at any rate._

 _The thing is, she's nice and all, and pretty, but I don't particularly want her. I guess I'd like to be friends, but I'm not attracted to her. I'm not attracted to anyone at school right now._

 _In my quest to discover if I am attracted to humans other than you, I went on some porn sites last night. If my luck holds, my parents won't find out. There are a few free sites out there with pictures, and a lot of the trial images for most of the pay sites were pretty graphic. I even found one site where you can view like a minute of a porn clip. I got a little excited and aroused from the clip, but the pictures didn't really do anything for me. Yes, I can come up with a good fantasy about me and a bunch of porn stars, but there wasn't any ... I mean, they were just naked pictures, you know? They weren't real, and I didn't, I don't know. I didn't feel the same way looking at them as I do when I look at you._

 _Anyway, enough about my love life (or lack thereof). Powers. No new powers have cropped up. I've been running, but not as much as I did over the summer. Then, it was almost like a compulsion. I had to run because I was so messed up and confused about everything. Now, I just run because it's fun. I like feeling the wind against my face, and seeing the world turn into a blur around me. I like knowing that not everyone can do this, and sometimes I feel that I have to enjoy it because otherwise, it's a waste. Like if someone had a beautiful singing voice but never sang, even for pleasure, their gift would be wasted. Same with mine, I guess. I use them to save people, but I should use them just for fun, or just because I can do them, right? As long as I don't use them to hurt others, I mean._

 _I've also been practicing my heat vision a lot. It really is my favorite power. The release of heat from my eyes feels really good, and not in a sexual way, even though that's what triggered it. It's like ... It's hard to describe. It's just relaxing and cool._

 _Memories: There's nothing new, which I find frustrating. You seem to think uncovering these memories is so important, and I can't. I've gone over what memories I have of Tok and Sheal, and the one of you and me in Kiptin, and what I can remember from after I started speaking. But anything else, there's nothing. A blank, and somehow, that's more scary then being overwhelmed with memories._

 _So, to wrap up, I think I'm dealing with this thing now. I'm so lonely and so scared when I contemplate being the last of my species. Not that I can be positive I am, but sometimes, when I think about it late at night, there's this spot deep inside me that aches so much I start to cry and can't stop and I just know that I will never meet anyone from my family. And then there are some nights when I'm convinced that someday, someone from my planet is going to come and take me away. It scares me so much I freeze. I can't move and all I feel is heaviness in my bones. I know if anyone comes for me, they aren't going to love me, and they aren't going to take me to a better place. They'll come and take me away from my life, turn me into something I'm not, and keep me from myself forever. Keep me from you forever._

 _I'm so confused. I'd rather not think about things I know there are no answers for. It's too painful. More painful even than ignoring what I am. I'm an alien. Okay, I get that. Why can't that be enough?_

Clark closed his journal. He never signed the letters in the journal; he felt too awkward. He wasn't going to send it, he knew who wrote it, what more did he need?

Setting the journal aside, Clark pulled a candle from under the ship and lit it. His portable CD player was set up next to his sleeping bag, and he reached over and turned it on. Flutes and chimes began playing in a soft, soothing melody that wrapped around him comfortingly. Eyes falling shut in an automatic response to the music, Clark lay back on his sleeping bag. He breathed deeply, feeling his lungs fill with air until they were almost bursting. As he counted slowly in his mind, he released his breath, slow and steady. Calmly.

The first few times Clark had tried to do the breathing exercises Lex had sent him, they hadn't worked very well. His mind jumped to too many different places as he breathed and no matter how hard he tried to focus his mind, it refused to do what he wanted. And sometimes Clark simply fell asleep and thus accomplished nothing.

Then, about two weeks ago, he'd struck some sort of balance that worked. He didn't do the exercises to try to relax; he had something else that worked a lot better. Instead, Clark stretched out every few nights and did this so he could just think. Somehow, when he deliberately set out to think about something concrete, instead of counting his breaths like he'd tried at first, his mind focused a lot faster, and, when he was done, he felt more relaxed and contemplative.

As his breathing fell into a deeply repetitive rhythm, Clark turned his mind to Theresa.

There was really no special reason Clark had chosen to flirt with Theresa. Not that she wasn't attractive, because she was. And she didn't look anything like Lana, which was a plus because Clark still wasn't sure whether he was attracted to Lana or just thought she was pretty. Sometimes it seemed as if maybe it changed, and he was drawn to her in different ways at different times. Like, sometimes she was just Lana, the beautiful girl next door, and other times she was Lana Lang, someone he wouldn't mind being with. She was beautiful, after all, in an almost exotic way.

Theresa, on the other hand, was definitely not exotic. She was a more normal pretty, with long, light brown hair, freckles, and pale blue eyes.

Truthfully, Clark hadn't wanted to explore his attraction to other people. While the question of his ability to be attracted to anyone besides Lex was interesting in the academic sense, Clark really didn't care all that much. Most of the time. But he'd spent all week listening about Jill-this and Jill-that from Pete, who was practically radiating hormones, and Clark got to wondering.

So, he started experimenting. He'd discreetly checked out a few guys in the locker room on Thursday--a taboo, he knew, but it was in the name of science. That made it okay. Okay, it didn't, but the important thing was no one had noticed and Clark had learned something.

He really wasn't attracted to any of the guys at his school. Not that there weren't some fairly good-looking guys, but he didn't want any of them. Not like he wanted Lex, or had wanted Taylor or even, sometimes late at night, still wanted Whitney. Or, maybe the guys in his gym class just weren't his type and if he walked into the locker room during another class, he'd find someone.

But none of them would be Lex. Lex, who was beautiful and sleek and sexy and utterly masculine.

So, he'd struck out on guys at school, and was trying to figure out who besides Lana and Chloe he might be attracted to when Theresa had suddenly been ... there. Really, that was the best way to describe it. He knew her, in a small-town-sort of way, where he basically knew everyone superficially. Plus, she'd been working in the Talon since it had opened, so he saw her all the time. But since she was a year older than him, and not in his immediate sphere, he'd never really noticed her.

Today, Clark had been at the Talon to study and she'd been working. She'd come over about six times to make sure he was doing all right before he finally struck up a conversation. She was, after all, paying a lot more attention to him than anyone else in the place; maybe there was a reason.

The conversation hadn't been anything earth shattering. She was in the trig class he was moving into on Monday so he'd asked about the teacher, and how she liked the class, and how she was doing. The next time she came over they talked a little about Mr. Townsend, since she'd had him for English the previous year. Then they'd talked a little about the books they'd read, television, and movies. And then, the next time she'd come over, she'd asked him if he was going to Homecoming. Clark knew that's probably where he'd made a mistake.

"I wasn't planning on it," he'd replied.

"But it's fun. Football and a dance? What's not to like?" Theresa had smiled and sort of flipped her hair back.

Clark had shrugged. "Nothing, I guess. I just ... I don't know. I haven't really given it much thought."

"You mean you haven't asked Lana? Or that girl Chloe you're always hanging out with?"

"No. I don't know what they're doing."

Theresa's smiled. "Well, I don't have a date yet. But I'm definitely going, no matter what." She'd hesitated a moment. "I've already got my dress."

Feeling awkward and not sure what she wanted him to say, he'd said, "That's great. Is it nice?"

"Yes, it is." She'd been about to go on when another customer had called for help. When she came back, Clark brought up something else.

Now, of course, he realized that she'd wanted him to ask her to the dance. At least, he thought she did. He was clueless about these things, but that's the only reason he could think that she'd brought it up. The dance wasn't for another few weeks, so it wasn't like it was a hot topic of conversation yet. As far as Clark could tell, the only reason people were talking about it was to figure out who was going with who and who had asked who.

She'd wanted him to ask her out, and Clark had blown it. Not that he wanted to take her, but Lex would want him to. Maybe.

Why did his life have to be so complicated?

She was pretty, and nice, but there was no spark. It wouldn't be terrible to take her to the dance, but Clark didn't particularly want to. He had plans that night, sort of.

But, on the other hand, maybe he should date her. Just take her to a movie or something. After Homecoming. Or before. Or ... or maybe he should just take her. Sure, there was no spark between them, but maybe Theresa was the type of person that he could grow to be attracted to. Like Lex and that boy in school; maybe one day, Clark would want to have sex with her.

Right now ... not so much.

Unable to reach any form of conclusion about his attraction to humans, Clark turned his mind to his few memories of his childhood. He'd discovered over the past few weeks he really hated doing this, but not for the reasons he used to. When Lex had first pushed this idea on him, Clark hadn't wanted to think about his birth parents or first few years on Earth because it reminded him too strongly that he wasn't normal and he would never be normal.

But, Clark wanted Lex back, so he forced himself to think about it. He started with what he could remember of his childhood, which pretty much started after he began speaking English. Those memories he liked: learning how to swim, while Lana's laughter rang in his ears; meeting Pete for the first time; trips to the park; the tree house; his first day of school, a lot of stuff that was ordinary and happy.

It was the stuff before that Clark didn't like. And that was the stuff Clark had to explore.

His mind wandered back to the memory he'd uncovered months ago of being in his cradle while his parents fought. It was strange. He could hear them so clearly, and basically understand what they were saying, but he could never recreate it. He'd tried; last time he'd 'listened' to the memory, he'd woken up and tried to repeat the conversation out loud. Clark hadn't even been able to form the words at all. It was like his mouth didn't work like that.

He really hated this memory. Sheal was so upset; he could hear the tears on the edge of her voice. She was afraid. Afraid for him.

Wincing, Clark shook his head and moved his mind to another memory. He was in his pajamas, playing with the musical puzzle. Sheal and Tok were talking about him, about the trip he was going to take.

 _"He'll be sedated for the first six months," his father had said._

Six months.

 _"Yes, the journey will take over a year, but it will harm him to sedate him any longer._

Over a year. Fuck. How long had Clark been in there? Over a year, obviously. No wonder he was afraid of being alone; he'd been alone for so long.

Without warning, Clark's mind shifted. He felt the familiar stomach roiling drop that heralded the oncoming of an unfamiliar memory. But, instead of the confusing and nauseating jumbles that normally assaulted him, it seemed clearer. His mind stayed calm and, suddenly, he could see Sheal's room around him as Clark lay on a furry rug spread out in front of a fire. Sheal was singing. No, humming, but it was a familiar song, like it was something she sang to him. Clark could feel his muscles relaxing as he remembered the song, and he hummed it under his breath as it unfolded in his mind.

 _Feet came into view. Sheal bent over and picked Clark up, holding him tightly._

 _"How's my baby?" she asked, bouncing him in her arms. "We have a big night tonight, don't we?"_

 _Clark frowned. He could almost feel the movement and her arms around him. He knew the blue dress she was wearing was something he'd never seen before. It was new and very pretty. The material had been what attracted him the most. The dress had been made of a super soft and slightly silky material that had fascinated Clark. He remembered rubbing his hands all over it and how he hadn't wanted to be separated from his mother all night because he couldn't stop touching the dress._

 _The memory continued to unfold. Sheal took him down the hall into his bedroom and set him on a high table. And then he was dressed in clothes that were as soft as hers. It was like a jumpsuit or something, one piece that buttoned up the front. Clark remembered that he kept touching the buttons, one at a time with the tips of his fingers. They'd fascinated him, like he'd never seen anything like them before._

 _Pearls. They'd been like pearls. Not exactly; they were dark blue instead of white, and even though they were glossy, they felt different. Sort of ... soapy, maybe. Hard, but they gave ever so slightly under his fingers. And they rippled. When he touched them, the colors rippled._

 _“Don.” Sheal said. She took Clark's hand and placed it carefully on the second button. “Fon.” Then the third. “Tara,” and on and one. “Dikma, seston, bic.”_

 _Counting. Sheal was teaching him how to count._

Clark grasped the sleeping bag under him and tried to repeat the words. His voice caught in his throat, choking him. He couldn't speak. Couldn't get sound out. In fact, he was totally stuck; he could barely think, his thoughts were fragmented. He was caught in this strange limbo between English and whatever language he used to speak, and unable to use either one.

He sat up, heart pounding in his chest. Mind muddled and confused, he leaned against the ship, resting his head against the strange metal.

The contact did nothing to help ease the confusion in his mind. He still remained unable to form any sort of words, no matter how hard he tried. But he did calm a little. A cool shiver ran through his body, lightly trailed down his backbone and settled in his stomach.

Clark forced himself to get his breathing back under control. It was harder than when he'd started this, since his mind refused to stay in one language. He'd start in English, then stutter out and die, ^hearing^ Sheal's voice in his mind counting slowly. Still, he'd been doing the breathing exercises enough that his lungs took over automatically. After a few minutes, Clark's chest rose and fell rhythmically; his pounding heart had no choice but to follow the example. There was nothing attacking him, nothing to fear. The only danger was his mind, and while a small part of him insisted in panicked bursts that Clark was never going to be able to speak or think clearly again, his body was in control now, and, gradually, the fear muted.

His limbs trembled, but Clark was calm again. He exhaled slowly and pressed his forehead into his ship. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to fall back into the memory.

 _Sheal's hair was black, like his. And long. There were waves in it. On this night--and somehow, Clark instinctively knew it was night--half of her hair was piled on her head and held in place with a sparkly band. She seemed to glow in Clark's eyes, beautiful and incandescent._

 _After she'd dressed him, she'd taken him to a small table. There was a seat in front of it and a big mirror. Sheal sat at the seat with Clark in her lap._

 _“Kal. My beautiful son,” she said as she brushed his hair._

 _Clark understood her. He could hear each of the words: Kal. Tal bontifica shova._

Licking his lips, he tried to repeat them. What came out was his name followed by a croak. He grunted in frustration.

This was ridiculous. He didn't understand why he couldn't talk. It wasn't like he couldn't understand the words. He did. He just couldn't speak them.

After another minute of trying, he forced it away and refocused on breathing. As he did, he tried to remember how he actually felt when Sheal had held him, instead of how he was feeling now.

He'd felt ... loved. Happy. Sheal made him feel so safe. And the memory of how she'd made him feel was almost enough to calm him again.

Clark's eyes opened a moment, then slid shut. He still couldn't think. His thoughts were a strange mixture of alien and human and none of it made any sense. But he had to trust that everything would be okay. Everything would fall back into place.

Sighing, Clark lay back onto his sleeping bag. Hands folded on his stomach, he inhaled deeply, feeling the oxygen fill him almost down to his toes. As he exhaled, he sent out a mental ^call^ for Lex, but he could tell it hadn't gone anywhere. Clark's mental shields were up too tightly, and he knew that Lex was closed off too. But it still felt better trying to call for his mate than focus on his own condition.

So, eyes closed and breathing deep and regular, Clark focused his thoughts on Lex, patiently waiting until his mind was once again under control and he could think clearly again.

________________________________________

The Talon did a lot of business on Sunday mornings and Clark was always grateful that he and Lex could ever find seats. Originally, their date started at ten, but as it became more and more obvious that if they wanted the privacy of a table in back and not have to either stand by the walls, or have to sit up at the counter, one of them had better get there early. By an unspoken agreement, they traded off, Clark getting there anywhere from an hour to a half hour early one week and Lex the next. This week had been Lex's turn, and Clark had arrived at ten to ten to find Lex ensconced in the back booth, paper spread out in front of him, bagel and coffee already half eaten.

Clark had joined him with a smile, and almost before he'd sat down, Theresa rushed over to take his order.

"Hey, Clark," she said breathlessly.

"Hey. Can I get a large coffee and a cinnamon roll with extra frosting?"

"Of course. Coming right up."

"You know, with the amount of sugar you put in your coffee, and what's in that roll, you could very well give yourself sugar shock," Lex said in amusement.

"You must have me confused with Chloe," Clark answered. "I don't use that much sugar."

"Compared to Chloe, no. Compared to normal people? Yes."

Clark snorted. "You exaggerate."

"Not much."

Theresa came back with his order and then rushed away again. Clark picked up the sugar and began pouring, which made Lex smirk.

"How was your week?" Lex asked as he folded his paper.

Clark shrugged. "Okay."

There was a long silence while Lex waited for Clark to elaborate. Clark didn't; he poured some cream into his coffee, stirred it in, and drank.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. How about you? I mean, how was your week?"

Lex studied him a moment, and then shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Dad's being a pain, as usual. He hates everything Mabel does. He's given her a list of ways to improve herself, like change her perfume, or wear shoes that don't make noise when she walks. 'A good servant is a ghost: never heard and rarely seen,'" Lex quoted in a very good impression of his father. "Not that he can see her, but he did say that. He also knocked her cooking and detailed exactly how he thinks each dish should be made. Basically, anything he can think to criticize--and Dad can think of a lot of things--was on that list. He presented it to her at four o'clock on Friday, and told her he expected dinner to be made to his exact specifications."

Interested, Clark leaned forward. "What did she do?"

"Marched straight to my office and started screaming about how much she hated him and how she couldn't work under these conditions anymore." Lex sighed and took a drink of his coffee. "I gave her the weekend off; Dad and I are eating Talon-food for breakfast and ordering from Metropolis for lunch and dinner. It's stupid, but if we provide the helicopter, most any restaurant will do whatever a Luthor wants."

"Tough life."

Lex smirked. "You have no idea." He rolled his eyes. "Damien's all moved in now. We had a slight snafu on Friday. The elevator broke down while he was in it, and he was stuck for about two hours."

"Was he okay?'

"Of course. But, Dad's been using the elevator to get from the ground floor to his room; his leg is still too injured to handle the stairs, so Dad was confined to the second floor during that time. And even though there was no compelling reason for him to go anywhere else, he spent the entire time ranting and raving at the general incompetence of the world." Lex laughed. "He kept banging on the elevator doors with the head of his cane, demanding that someone make the damn thing work."

Clark couldn't help it; he cracked up, imagining Lionel storming through the hall, limping as he did, yelling at the top of this lungs. It seemed so ... stupid for a man of his power to allow himself to fall apart over something so small. "I wish I could have seen it."

Lex's eyes twinkled. "I have the security tapes if you like. I'm thinking of selling them on the internet."

"I think I'll pass. But thanks." Still laughing, Clark took a big gulp of his drink.

Under the table, Lex gently nudged Clark with his foot. "Seriously, Clark; how are you?"

"I'm fine. Really."

"You just seem a little down."

Clark hesitated, and then nodded slowly. He wasn't quite sure what to tell Lex about last night. It had taken him almost three and a half hours to be able to talk again. It had been scary and disconcerting and ... and just flat out terrifying. But he wasn't sure if he'd be able to describe it to Lex without getting too upset.

"Clark?"

He swallowed and forced his mind back to the present. "I, uh, I had some problems last night."

Immediately alert, Lex leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

"I ... I was trying to uncover some memories. I mean, I was just thinking, you know? Laying there, trying to relax. At first I went over some stuff that I'd remembered before. It's funny, you know? I can remember my parents and what they said and even though they're speaking another language, I can still understand them." He stopped talking and took a long drink of his coffee.

"Well," Lex said thoughtfully. "It's your birth language. You grew up for however many years listening to it. It makes sense that when you remember this stuff, you understand what they are saying. You knew what they were saying back then."

Clark licked his lips. "Yeah, but I can't speak it."

"Have you tried?"

He nodded.

Brow furrowed, Lex sat back. "Huh." He lifted his coffee and drank as his fingers tapped a dizzying tattoo on the table top. "Well, you know at least 10 words. Mom, Dad, no, back, mine, I love you, and forever. Let's assume that all of those words were important for you to know. I mean, little kids know how to say mine, go away, I love you, Mom, Dad--or whatever the variations. And then they learn other words that are somehow important to them. So I'd guess that you were using at least those eight words when you left."

"Why not more?'

Lex thought a moment. "Well. Maybe you did know more. Perhaps on your way over here, you ... lost some words. I don't know how much the average three year old talks or how many words he knows. I also don't know how old you were when you left, or how long you took coming here."

Clark shrugged. He knew how long, but, once again, he couldn't verbalize it. He'd taken, "Cholpokla don frireare," Tok had said. Those were the words in Clark's head. And he knew what they meant: over a year. But for some reason, the words got caught in translation and wouldn't leave his throat.

"Clark?"

He blinked and looked up.

Lex was looking at him concerned. "What's wrong?"

His throat was dry. Parched. Clearing it, Clark lifted his coffee and downed it. "I," he said in a raspy voice, "This is what ..."

"Clark, take a deep breath."

Clark complied, eyes falling shut as he breathed in deeply.

Underneath the table, Lex took his hand. "I know you don't like thinking about this stuff, Clark, but you know it's for the best."

He nodded, still breathing. He didn't understand why this kept happening.

"We don't have to talk about this right now, Clark," Lex said as his finger rubbed against Clark's palm.

"It's okay," Clark said. "Really. I just ... I keep trying to ..."

"Theresa!" Lex interrupted Clark. He released his hand and sat back.

Clark opened his eyes and looked up at the waitress who had returned to their table. "Hi. I just wanted to know if you needed anything else. More coffee, Clark?"

"Sure." He sat back and forced himself to breath normally. He was a little cold, which was unusual, and his body vibrated slightly. It was weird.

Theresa finished pouring their coffee's and reached into her apron pocket. She pulled out a stack of papers and held them out, her cheeks pink. "Uh, Clark, I went ahead and made copies of all my trig notes for you," Theresa said, handing him the stack. "I figured Ms. Dempsey would probably ask someone to do it anyway, and this way, if you have time, you can glance over everything so you kind of know where we are."

Clark blinked and he took the papers. "Uh, thanks," he said, hoping he sounded normal. "This is great." He glanced through the first couple pages. "This is going to help a lot." He grinned up at her. "Thank you."

Her cheeks turned from light pink to dark red and she nodded and ducked her head a little. "It was my pleasure." She bit her lip. ""Okay, well, I guess I should get back to work. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay. Thanks again."

Theresa gave him a big smile and left.

Lex cleared his throat. "She likes you."

Clark nodded and prepared his coffee. Lex's voice was neutral, and with the strange feelings in his stomach from before, Clark couldn't quite get a read on how Lex felt about Theresa. Was he jealous or amused or ... or what?

"What's this about?" Lex asked, touching the stack of papers.

"Remember how I told you algebra was easy and I was bored?"

Lex nodded.

Feeling his cheeks warm, Clark said, "The other night I was studying for the test. I wanted to see if anything in future chapters would make what I was actually studying make more sense. So I kept working through example problems and stuff and, suddenly, I was at the end of the book. It only took me like ten minutes to read and process everything. It was really weird. Anyway, the next day we took the test and I guess I was a little distracted or something because I finished really quickly."

"What did your instructor do?"

"He didn't believe I'd actually done what I was supposed to do, so he graded it right there to show me how stupid I was for rushing through it. And I had gotten every problem right, so he asked me to come back after school so he could talk to me."

"How did the talk go?

Clark shrugged. "Okay, I guess. He asked how I liked class, and did I feel it was too easy. Then he started quizzing me from the book; he walked me through the examples, and then gave me test questions. I didn't know what to do, Lex. I mean, I've been so bored there that I wouldn't mind being moved up, but I don't want to seem like I'm some super genius. So I just answered the questions right. They called my dad in to talk with my teacher and my counselor and they said I should probably be moved up to a higher level math."

Lex made a face. "How did your dad take that?"

Clark sighed. "He acted like he was all proud of me, and agreed to move me up. But when we got home, he gave me a big lecture about how I can't get careless like that in class, and it's great that I'm smart, but I have an unfair advantage and shouldn't flaunt it like that."

He snorted. "Typical. It figures he'd say something like that. Clark, he's wrong."

"No, he's ..."

"Clark, your father is wrong," Lex cut him off. "You don't have an unfair advantage. This isn't sports. It's not a competition. You have a gift. You are smarter than other kids in your class; that's not an unfair advantage, that's just the way things are. I'm the same way. Are you telling me I had an unfair advantage over the other students in my schools just because I was naturally smarter than them?"

Clark frowned. "Well, no."

"And it's the same for you."

"No, it's not. I'm ..." He glanced around. "Adopted."

Lex shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Learning is the one thing you shouldn't have to check yourself in because you're adopted. You have the right to expand your mind to the fullest potential. In fact, you'd be shorting yourself if you didn't, and it wouldn't be fair." He paused a moment. "That being said, you do need to watch out, Clark. You can't afford to get careless enough that your teachers notice that you're doing things that no human can do."

He dropped his gaze, ashamed. "Yeah. I know. I just ... I wasn't thinking."

"I know. But just like you can't let yourself get careless about your other gifts, you can't with this. Because sooner or later, someone will notice you've basically got a calculator in your head, and that will draw attention to you. And, your father is right; you can't afford that attention, not with your secret."

"I know."

Under the table, Lex took Clark's hand. "I'm not angry. And I'm not trying to scare you. I just want to make sure you realize my concern."

Clark rubbed his face. "I do. Really. I don't want people to notice I can do things out of the ordinary, but I didn't mean for anyone to notice this. And what if it happens again?"

"Then we'll need to find a way to keep you distracted enough to perform at an above average level, but not so much so that you test out of high school in two weeks."

"Okay. How?"

Lex's brow furrowed. "How much do you actually understand?"

"What do you mean?"

"You get the equations and formulas and can do them quickly. Do you also get why and how they work, or do you just plug everything in the right places and do the calculations?"

Clark thought a moment. "A little of both, but I think more of the second. I mean, I'd have to understand they why in order to do it, right?"

"Yes and no. You could know it, but not be conscious of the knowledge. In that case, it might start making sense in time. Or we can go over it so I can see how much you actually understand. On the other hand, you might just be able to plug numbers into the equations mentally, and not understand what you're doing. In which case, you need to learn why the equations work as they do. Once again, that's something we can work on."

"How is this going to help in class?"

Lex shrugged. "Either you can take extra work with you to slow you down, or you can learn to think about two things at a time. That way, you'll slow down, but learn a new skill, and not draw attention to yourself."

Clark thought about it a moment. It sounded like a good idea, plus he'd get to spend more time with Lex. "Okay," he said after a moment. "Let's see how trig is, and then we'll start."

"Sounds like a plan." Lex squeezed his hand then released it. "So, back to Theresa. How do you feel about her?"

He sighed softly. "I don't know. She's pretty. I don't dislike her. Maybe I like her as a potential friend, but I don't know her that well."

"Why don't you ask her out?"

"I don't know." Clark ducked his head. "I think she wants me to ask her to Homecoming. But I don't think I'm going to go at all."

Lex went very still.

Clark looked up at him worriedly. "Lex?"

After a moment, Lex let out a long sigh and rolled his head from side to side. "Clark," he said softly, "whatever you're planning to do to stop the whole scarecrow thing, don't."

"But ..."

"No. I'm serious. I'll alert the local police that they better keep an eye out for this, and send a team of security guards out to the field to help whoever they choose and scare the attackers, but you are to do nothing. If I so much as suspect that you were in that field, I'll tell your mother that you were caught last year."

"Lex!" Clark exclaimed. He wouldn't.

Oh, yes he would. Clark could see it in his eyes. Lex would tell his mom, and Mom would freak out and want to talk about it and she might even write a nasty letter to Whitney.

"Well?" Lex said.

Clark exhaled hard and lifted his thumb to chew on it. "Okay, fine. I won't do anything to stop them. Even though I can."

"It's not your responsibility, Clark. And I don't want you to put yourself in a situation where you're fighting non-mutated humans."

"Oh, so now you don't trust me?"

"Of course I do. But this isn't your fight. It's just a tradition that needs to be stopped. If you want to do something, write an article for the Torch, or have Chloe do it. Compare it to a hate crime. Get people angry. But don't go anywhere near the field on Homecoming."

He sighed. "I said I wouldn't. What more do you want?"

"I want you to go to Homecoming." He glanced over his shoulder to where Theresa was. "She's a nice girl, Clark."

"I know. But she's a nice girl looking for a nice boyfriend. I doubt that she's looking for someone who's just going to dump her for his ex-boyfriend. Because you know that's what's going to happen, and it's not fair to her."

Lex shifted. "Then don't let it get that serious. Make it clear from the beginning that you're just looking to go out and have a good time with an interesting person. You don't necessarily want to be her boyfriend. If that's not what she wants, she can make the decision not to go out with you."

Clark frowned. "You want me to say something like, 'Theresa, I'd like to ask you to Homecoming, but please know that I don't want to be your boyfriend.'?"

"No. How about, 'Would you like to go to Homecoming?' and leave it at that. Then, if she seems to want to go out again, tell her you like her, want to get to know her more, but you aren't looking for anything serious. It's okay to do that."

"I don't know." Clark chewed on his thumbnail. "It seemed to complicated. Can't I just go to a club where everything really is casual?"

"Of course. I'm not going to force anything on you, Clark," Lex said, and Clark knew that Lex was going to deliver some message or wise saying. "I just want you to remember that sometimes you aren't going to be attracted to someone right away. In fact, I think that more time than not, it won't be until you get to know a person that you'll be sexually attracted to them."

"So you want me to date her on the off chance that one day I might be attracted to her like that? That's just stupid."

"No, that's what people sometimes do."

"It's not what I want to do," Clark said firmly.

Lex looked as if he were going to say something, then thought better of it. Instead, he nodded and sat back in his chair. "If that's how you feel."

"It is."

"Okay then."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence. At least, to Clark it was uncomfortable. He was angry and frustrated. Theresa hadn't been who he'd wanted to talk about. And his dating life hadn't been what he wanted to talk about. He was tired of that conversation because, no matter what Lex thought Clark should do, it just felt wrong.

Lex licked his lips. "Before Theresa came, you were saying you had some problems last night."

Clark nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He thought about it a moment. The truth was, he wasn't sure. He hated feeling as powerless as he had last night, unable to speak, hardly able form a coherent though. And he did want to know what was going on. But ... not here. Even thinking about it made him too upset, and he couldn't afford having any sort of breakdown in public. He'd barely avoided one as it was, and it had only been Theresa's timely arrival that had stopped him from getting in too deep.

So, Clark exhaled slowly and shook his head. "Not right now. I mean, I do. Really. But," he glanced around, "not here."

Understanding washed over Lex's face and he nodded. "Okay. We'll talk later." He hesitated. "Do you want to do this later in the week? Maybe give you more time to process what happened, and give us some time to just talk?"

Clark thought a moment. The truth was, he really wasn't sure how to explain his problem. It sounded stupid and unrealistic: "I can hear my parents talk in my mind, but when I try to repeat it, I lose my ability to speak and, oh yeah, think." If Clark could hear it and understand it, there shouldn't be any problem. It sounded like he was making stuff up.

So, he could wait. Maybe work it out in writing for a few days before telling Lex. Unless ...

"Lex? I was thinking that maybe ... maybe we should reconnect our minds," Clark said tentatively, looking down at his coffee. "Just so ..."

A flash of annoyance rushed over the empathic bond, cutting Clark off. He looked up, but Lex's face was neutral.

"Clark, I miss you too. And I miss the closeness ... the intimacy we shared with our connection. But I think it would be counterproductive to reopen it at this point. We're both still trying to discover who we are."

"I know, but ..."

"No," Lex cut him off firmly. "No buts. This discussion is over."

Clark blinked. "Wait, you're telling me that the decision to reopen the bond is yours and yours alone?"

He shook his head. "Of course not, Clark. We'll decide together, but we both have to be in agreement."

"How can we agree to anything if you don't listen to my reasons?"

Lex's face took on a look of almost patient arrogance. He sat back casually in his seat and said, "Okay, Clark. What are your reasons?"

Clark looked at Lex in disbelief. Anger and frustration was bubbling beneath the surface of his skin. This was bullshit. Absolute bullshit. Lex had already decided what he was going to do, no matter what Clark said.

No. Even that wasn't true. Because Clark had an excellent reason, and once Lex heard what had happened last night, he'd want to open the bond again. Clark was afraid of losing himself to his alien side, and he had good reason to worry. He was able to bring his mind back before, but what if he couldn't in the future? It wasn't that he wanted Lex back in his mind simply because Clark missed him; he wanted Lex there so he could monitor Clark's mind and keep him in contact with his human side. To police Clark from going too far.

Lex could buy that reason. He would, and he'd apologize.

So, why wasn't Clark saying anything?

"I ..." Clark started, but then the reason for his hesitation became clear. He was tired of Lex controlling everything.

Lex had decided they should break up. Lex decided they should close the bond. Lex chose the day and time of their weekly date. Lex decided when he could break the rules and come to see Clark. Lex gave Clark permission to be angry, to be attracted to other people, to date, to do everything. And now, Lex decided whether they lowered their mental shields. None of this was a group effort; this was all about Lex controlling their relationship.

If Clark told Lex what had happened, he was giving what little control over their relationship he had. Not that he wanted total control, but he wanted to be part of a partnership again. Right now, he wasn't, and the only way to get it back was to somehow make Lex aware of what he was doing. Make him see how unfair to both of them he was being.

So, Clark shook his head and sighed. "No," he said. "Let's keep them up. For now."

Lex smiled in satisfaction and nodded. "I knew you would see it right." He reached under the table and squeezed Clark's hand. "So," he said as he released it, "what book are you reading now?"

"'Ender's Game.' I decided to take a break from the booklist and read something just for entertainment," Clark replied, trying to get his frustration under control.

Lex blinked. "I didn't think you would want to read a book like that."

Clark frown in confusion, then got it. "I'm not a bug," he said with a small smile. "Besides, it's not like the book is about the actual alien invasion; it's all about Ender. And, I don't know. I feel like I kind of know what Ender is going through." Then he frowned. "Wait. You've read it?"

Lex smiled and drummed his fingers very slowly on the table, a sure sign that he was ready to get into a deep discussion about something he really enjoyed. "When I was nine years old," he began with a small smile, "I was in a terrible accident that had me bed-ridden for months. My dear nanny, Pam, bought me a few comics by the name of 'Warrior Angel.' I became addicted, and started reading every issue I could find of the comic. I also started bugging her for books about aliens or heroes or anything that was similar. She found the book 'Ender's Game,' and I devoured it. Several times." His eyes took on a look of nostalgia, and he smiled fondly at Clark. "Whenever I read a book, I take some time to work out what each character looks like in my mind. Ender was the easiest character I've ever built. He was little, with big, beautiful blue eyes, and a mop of unruly black hair." His foot slid up Clark's calf.

Clark flushed. "Well, I ... I don't exactly see myself. I mean, I don't picture myself. Sometimes, though, he does have red hair and blue eyes."

Lex grinned.

"But, really," Clark continued, nudging Lex's foot. "I do identify with him and how he feels during the book. A little lonely and isolated. Set apart by his gifts."

"I see what you mean," Lex said, turning serious. "One of the things that has always struck me about the story is ..."

And he was off. Lex could discuss any form of written word for hours, it seemed, especially if he loved it. And Clark was more than willing to discuss books right now. He still had to work out in his mind what he was going to say to Lex. Somehow, he didn't think, "Lex, you're a stubborn, pig-headed dork," was going to fly.

That night, after his chores and dinner, Clark settled comfortably in his couch up in his room. He opened his journal and set about writing the first draft of his letter to Lex.

 _Dear Lex,_ he wrote,

 _I love you, but you don't listen to me anymore. You're stuck in some power trip or something, and you don't even see it. I know you love me. I know you wouldn't ever do anything to hurt me. But you're not listening to me anymore, not really. You're too convinced that you know what's best for both of us and you're forgetting that you're not exactly an objective party. You're part of all this, and you can't always see clearly. You need to trust me, too. Trust that I am working for a better us. Trust that I'm not going to do anything to sabotage our relationship or our future. Trust ..._

 _Just trust me. Because, if you can't trust me, then we don't really have a partnership. And if we don't have a partnership, then I can't be with you. I want to, but I need to count, I need to be heard, I need have my feelings and ideas count._

 _I love you, Lex. More than anything. But I think you're scared of something, and you aren't telling me. Or maybe you don't realize it. Having our mental shields up is hurting us. We can't communicate clearly without hearing each other mentally. Not really because we don't hear each other. It's not just that I'm lonely without you that I want to lower them. I want you to hear and understand me again, and I want to be able to do the same to you._

 _Think about it._

 _Love always,_

 _Clark._


End file.
